No Chance Of Winning
by Marmelise
Summary: Cato wants him more than anything, but stopping himself is a difficult task, and he doesn't know how long he can go on. One-sided Cato/Peeta. Oneshot.


**I started writing this one day a few months back as a joke. I now love this pairing and, right after I post this, going to find more. This is also very drabbly. I can't seem to write anything but drabbles anymore. And to me, one-sided relationships seem more real life than anything else. And don't take everything to seriously.**

**Let's let the fun begin, shall we?**

* * *

Cato can easily admit that he loves the physical aspect of the Games. He remembers watching them every year; studying the different fighting styles of the victors, hoping to put them to good use.

He likes the sword the best. It reminds him of himself; powerful, good to look at, and a weapon only the strong can control. He knows after he wins, he's going to have to find a strong girl or...

He crosses his legs, groans, and tries to clear his mind. His trainer back in 2 would have given him a beating if he knew what his thoughts consist of. He can't react like this, not now.

Clove knows; hates it, but at least he doesn't have to keep it to himself like a sissy.

The day before, she had told him of someone he could go to if he was feeling... frustrated. He decides this is his only way. He isn't going to get his own hands dirty, not here, not under these circumstances.

The Capitol deserves some type of pre-show anyway.

* * *

Glimmer is an easy fuck. She's quick and good and not to mention beautiful. But she's not the one he wants, and she knows this.

"So," she tickles the inside of his ear with her tongue, her hot body pressed aginst his on the dark training center floor. "District 12, huh? You do look like you need some fiber." The girl chuckles at her own joke, pumping him with three fingers. "I saw you look at him after the Parade. Good thing the old-drunk took it as a stab at the girl, or else you'd be toast."

"Shut up!" he grunts, he knows he's close now.

"It's okay. You can say it. No ones here." She purrs, going even faster.

He comes, and when he does, his name escapes the boy's lips. "_Peeta."_

They both hear the hormonal cries of others on the game makers balcony.

It makes them feel less ashamed.

* * *

He keeps away from the wrestling mat at the training center. He doesn't want to go near the boy from District 12, much less touch him. His mind wouldn't be able to take it.

Glimmer smirks at him, licks her lips, and motions to Peeta, who is clutching a weight in his hands. _Your secret's safe with me_, her eyes seem to say.

When Peeta looks in his general direction, Cato's heart stops just like the schoolgirls he used to make fun of. But he keeps up the façade, the smugness in his grin and demeanor.

When the boy from District 12 throws it into the rack of knives and spears, he can't help but let out a groan of arousal amongst the other Careers talking and gabbering. Peeta's _strong_, and he can't help but think of the boy controlling him, and an erotic image of a different type of swordplay manifests into his mind.

He needs him. Not just for the Career pack, but for something else entirely.

* * *

He should have seen it coming. It was so obvious from the beginning, the way District 12 acted around each other. He wants to beat someone up, to scream and thrash around like a child. But he can't make a scene here. He doesn't want to tarnish his and his district's reputation.

He doesn't care about getting his hands dirty now; the games are tomorrow and the Capitol seems to drink in the romance like a fine wine.

He gets rid of his anger the only way he can think of.

Cato turns the shower to as hot as his body allows and pleasures himself with all of the sex oriented toys from the Capitol. He can guess that more than one tribute has ever asked for such services.

Cato thinks of all of the things they do for pleasure back in District 2, and pictures the boy every time; rubbing against him, licking every inch of his body, and sucking him dry.

There is only the two of them and the Girl on Fire doesn't exist.

He screams the boys name when he climaxes, and the water washes any evidence down the drain.

* * *

He's just as surprised as the rest of them when Peeta willingly joins them.

Glimmer's hands ghost over his skin, a sign to hold his excitement, something that has helped for the first few nights when his heart raced after the bloodbath.

When they finally lay down to sleep on the second night with Peeta, Cato can't help but touch the boy's face, his arms, his neck. But his euphoric moment shatters when Peeta whispers his district partner's name.

The Girl on Fire is aptly named for sending red hot rage into his bloodstream and fireballs from the sky. They lose a few pack members, but Cato knows that Peeta is there; his footsteps louder than the fire itself, and Cato can relax, if just for a moment.

He hears them as soon as their nest hits the ground. They're all over Glimmer in a matter of seconds, injecting poison into her bloodstream and turning her once pretty face into a grotesque figure that he can't even recognize.

Cato panics for a moment when he hears only Clove's boots hitting the ground along side of him, but then Peeta surpasses the both of them, running into the underbrush.

Something inside Cato stirs; he feels a sense relief, and that possibly things are turning in his favor.

* * *

He makes a mistake. Cato does not make mistakes.

He kisses Peeta on the lips; a real, hard kiss, something that he's wanted since the beginning. Lover Boy goes rigid, his eyes wide with panic, and Cato can feel the boy shut down through his fingertips.

In Peeta's shocked state, Cato shoves him up against a tree and forces his tongue into the others mouth. He can see that the boy's eyes are glassed over, but he's done with dreaming.

Cato has waited too long for this; ever since he saw the boys reaping, he knew that boy had to be his, in one way or another.

But his head betrays him, and he feels himself get hard against Peeta's groin, grinding into him, and wishing that the boy would just, fucking, reciprocate, _god damn it_!

He should have expected nothing from the boy, and his high expectations have led him to this. He is trained to kill, and nothing more.

So Cato does the only thing he can think of; he slices a large gash into Peeta's leg. And runs.

Cato's made a mistake, and it really hits him that he has absolutely no chance of winning. It was always the Girl on Fire. It was always her.

And there is nothing he can do.

* * *

They struggle on the cornucopia.

Fighting with everything they have, they throw punch after punch. Peeta's straddling him, his fist colliding with his face. Cato can't help but be the slightest turned on and, when he lunges and grabs Peeta's head and shoulder in his arms, he let's out a small, intoxicating moan into the blondes ear. It gives Cato the satisfaction to feel the boy shiver out of fear against his sweaty body, before he breaths his last.

He's not going to win, and he tells them this, blood streaking his face. He knows his district isn't proud of his little stunt in the woods, and feels no remorse as the girl fires at his hand, sending him to a painful, slow, and, somehow, erotic death.

He only makes it to the first syllable of Peeta's name before The Girl on Fire shoots an arrow into his heart, into the organ that played all the wrong notes that messed up everything, and ending the life of the boy that had no chance of winning.

* * *

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